Snails
by yangires
Summary: Keyblades: weapons only found in myths that feed the belief that the world was once scattered into many. As an average high school student, Roxas thought it would never become relevant to him. Honestly? He should have been more genre savvy. —AU—
1. See the Benefits

**Snails**.  
>( <em>AU, <em>_multiple pairings_ )  
>Written: October 08th, 2010 — June 29th, 2011.<p>

author's note;  
>Um, well. Hello, everyone. I'm <strong>yangires<strong>, returning to the thug life that is multi-chaptered fics with the most stereotypical Kingdom Hearts high school AU possible—which is exactly what I am aiming for. I'm not going to lie here, and just go ahead and mention that this is my own little self titillating experiment in shoving all of the most common AU tropes into one fic and then gleefully turning it into a deconstruction.

Still with me? Good! Aside from making a high school AU deconstruction (sort of), my other goal with this is to see how far I can go while keeping all the characters as IC as possible in this environment (sans Roxas, who is really more of a frakensteins monster created from his Days personality, his KHII Twilight Town personality, and the jerk!Roxas Nomura led us to believe for many years until he retconned the scenes showing that characterization so hard). Meaning, that I will try my best to keep f-bombs out of the mouths of characters who shouldn't even know that word and to keep happy 15-year-old characters from slitting their wrists with gayngst over things the power of friendship could easily resolve.

Now, **tl;dr version**: high school AU in which I try to keep everyone faithful to their canon characterization while keeping a fair balance between fluffy and cute school romances and unfortunate mindfuck. I promise most chapters won't have this long of an author's note, if at all.

* * *

><p><em>Tick, tock. <em>

Your name is Roxas Custor, and once upon a time, you used to have a twin. A twin you had not known the existence of until your 13th birthday, and a twin you had not come to know until exactly two years ago from this point, but a twin nonetheless. Regardless of the state of your relationship with said twin, you couldn't bring yourself to say you still had one. Not when your so-called twin brother was little more than skin and bones, barely holding themselves together due to the joint efforts of his tired lungs and machines designed to keep them working—but that was another matter entirely.

The sterilized white walls of the hospital have become common scenery for you, seeing as you had made a routine out of visiting here every day after school; but it wasn't like you had much to do, anyway. Not when the only person who made an effort to spend _time_ with you was as good as dead, and everybody else might have approached that on a literal level.

Your mother would stop by occasionally, a small box of candy of some description tucked under her arm and her hair pulled so high up, it was painfully obvious she had come here in a rush. Undecided between staying home or staying at work and saving herself the grief of seeing _both_ of her sons (or rather, her only son and the thing she had given up on raising properly quite some time ago) reduced to nothing but piles of pale skin and breaths that already sounded bored with themselves, but she still came. And her candy sucked every single time and she failed consistently when she tried to croon you into coming back home with her for dinner. Every time she would lay her hand on your back and say: "_Roxas, honey, you look so pale lately. Why don't you come home? There's food and it's better than what you've been eating lately, I promise._"

It never really did help, in any case.

You sometimes tuck your hand under his own and stare blankly at some nondescript wall across the room. His pulse is nice and steady, and somehow, that just makes the fact that he's still like _this_ all the more jarring to you. He's still laying on the same bed, in the same pose, and all that's really changed about him is the way he seems paler than before, more like you and less like himself. His hands are still warm, even in this cold, and you can find the slightest bit of comfort in that.

Still, _still_. In the quiet moments like these, where you can't bring yourself to do much besides tapping your foot to some rhythm that had been stuck in your head for the last few days as you continue to hold his hand, you sometimes find yourself remembering. It's not much—mainly bits and pieces of pleasant and unpleasant things that were related to whatever had happened here, but it was alright. You liked to remember. Everyone was there when you remembered. You hadn't fucked everything up, at the time.

So you remember.

* * *

><p>Indisputable fact number one of every day student life: Mondays were bad.<p>

Tuesdays were _worse_.

The routine at the Custor-cum-Pallux household was a very strict, firm and unshakable thing—only disrupted by the arrival of a new, permanent member to the family, before quickly settling down back to a sense of normality. It consisted of two entities (mother, son) bundled up in their respective, fairly comfortable beds with a pillow firmly lodged over their heads as they attempted to reject the reality of the upcoming long day of obligations, along with the addition of a third entity (other son) diligently carrying out his morning routine while seeking out ways to remedy his family's morning woes. Namely, their apparent, nearly vampire-like aversion to morning sunlight, judging from how they would shout and moan and bury themselves under their thick covers while he spread open their curtains, hoping to get his brother up in time to eat and his mother up in time to even have a _ride_ to school.

It was a weird routine. Backward and not very functional by the normal standards society would set for a single mother powered family, but it was alright. It got them through the day, and that was alright.

"C'mon, Roxas!" Ventus Pallux, his dear twin brother, older by the saving grace of one hour and three minutes, would shout at him between gargles and a mouthful of toothpaste and a toothbrush, and Roxas would find himself nearly suffocating under the pressure he would need to apply to his head with his pillow in order to drown out his whining. "How am I supposed to wake your mom up if _you're_ not even moving?"

And then there would be the sound of running water, the sound of a toothbrush being quickly dumped back into the cup they used to store the three, differently colored ones that belonged to each member of their small family, and then the vaguely disgusting sound of his brother spitting a few times into the sink until he was free of what he liked to call "icky cherry-mint-flavored puke". He knows what's coming next, because Ven has already done it before and Ven is _already_ in their room, so there's really not much he can do about it when the covers are roughly pulled from above him and the curtains in their room spread apart until there's a nice, blinding amount of sunlight filtering through and highlighting how absolutely terrible they are at keeping things neat and tidy. Every single speck of dust filtering through the air illuminated, along with every pile of dirty underwear conspicuously shoved into a corner and all the pencils they thought they had lost at school or somewhere else, shoved underneath some unmentionable place.

There really _wasn't_ much Roxas could have done when Ven jumps into the bottom bunk of the bed they share, _his_ bunk, and starts pulling at the pillow firmly pressed over his head, ignoring his moans and groans until something halfway decent and coherent comes out of his mouth.

"Ven, get the hell out of my _room_."

Of course, his brother responds by doing that one sound thing he likes to do, somewhere between a whine and a small chuckle, and Roxas can just feel the puppy dog face trying very, _very_ hard not to change into one of amusement on top of him.

"Y'know this is _our_ room now, right?" He replies, the amusement very much clear in his voice, and he's pressing his knees against his legs until one of them is firmly shoved between his thighs, making this ten more times more annoying and twenty more uncomfortable. "You can't throw me out of a room if it's mine, too, Roxas."

"Well. _Well_…" Roxas says, faltering for a moment while trying to cling onto that little part of himself that's still ready to go back to sleep and not entirely awake, because he knows that once it's gone there's no hope for him in finding it easy to go back to bed. "It was mine first."

"Too bad!" His older twin responds, completely and utterly flopping down on top of him with a remarkable lack of grace, and subsequently knocking out the little bit of air he had managed to accumulate inside his lungs beforehand. The fact that the pillow was still firmly pressed against his head wasn't helping much, and Ven probably knew this, judging from the way he could just _feel _him grinning on top of him as Roxas writhed around a few times to no avail.

Naturally, it is at this time that the little possibility of going back to sleep Roxas had been clinging to completely disappears.

Roxas groans, shoving his brother off of him with both hands and causing Ven to roll over onto his side, before sitting up and letting the pillow that was previously on his face to fall on his lap. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling it sticking up at various decidedly awkward places, and glares at Ven, who was more or less attempting to stifle his laughter and failing quite epically.

"…Did you at least make breakfast?" He asks, slowly, allowing his annoyance to be shown in each and every word that came out of his mouth.

Of course, the grin that was previously plastered on Ven's face turns into a pout as soon as the question comes out, and he shakes his head. "Nope," he replies, scrunching his nose up just a little bit. "You're always complaining about how I make your eggs too runny or your toast too crunchy, so I didn't."

"So, let me get this straight," Roxas begins, massaging the bridge of his nose and barely suppressing the urge to shove his brother off the bed. "You woke me up, threw yourself on top of me… And you don't have _anything_ ready for us to eat?"

"Well…" Ven says, cocking his head to the side, propping his chin up on the palms of his hands as he stared up at his twin. "I dunno 'bout you, but I already had some cereal."

Roxas immediately proceeds to press the pillow against his face once more, and plop back down on the bed.

"Hey!" He hears Ven say, tugging at his shirt a few times. "What're you doing? We're _really_ gonna be late if you don't get out of bed now, Roxas!"

To nobody's surprise (except, perhaps Ven's and his remarkable lack of foresight for all things _Roxas_), the younger of the two then proceeds to roll over, pillow still firmly pressed against his face, and groan something vaguely human. _Vaguely_, being the keyword here.

Understandably, Ven blinks, pulling away from Roxas and putting a stop to his assault on his shirt, all while staring at his brother. "…What was that?"

Roxas pulls away from his pillow, ever so slightly, just enough for whatever he says to be understandable and just enough to shoot his brother a glare. "I _said_, that I'll get dressed if you get out of my room and get me something to eat."

Not even a second passes before Ven's jumping to his feet, off the bed and away from Roxas, and grins, turning around on his heel to face his brother. "Got it!" He says, grin still firmly placed on his lips as he mock-salutes at Roxas. "But you better be downstairs when I wake your mom up, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Roxas mutters in return, half heartedly waving one of his hands in a shooing motion. He listens carefully to his brother's footsteps. Listens carefully to the creaking of the floorboards as he exits the room, and once he's sure he's gone downstairs, he sits up and stares at the doorway. Just for a moment, he entertains the notion of locking the door and going back to sleep once again, but the idea goes just as quickly as it came. The small feeling of tiredness that he had after being woken up by Ven had left long ago, and he didn't need to hear his brother nagging (_whining_) at him about how locking the door wasn't _nice_ and how their respective female class representatives would chew them out once again for being late, among other things.

Not that Roxas particularly cared about what their classmates would think, of course. But for some reason or another, his brother was simply obsessed with being a _perfect_ student. He had all of the best grades and the best physical education records. The teachers would dote and swoon over every little choice he made, and he had his own little group of goody-two-shoes best friends (one being the _student council president_ in their current school and the other the former captain of the kendo club in his old school) to match. It, quite honestly, made Roxas sick to his stomach, but it wasn't like there was anything he could do about it. His mother was charmed by how _perfect_ and _different_ her long-lost child was, and so were Roxas' own friends. It's not he could press his thumb against the existence that was his twin brother and smear it away—not realistically speaking, anyway.

And in any case, it's not like anyone ever paid much attention to _Roxas_ Custor. Most teachers were genuinely surprised when they realized he was in his assigned seat and in the classroom, and he wasn't the most memorable kid, either. Not that pale, skinny kid whose collar bone showed too much and whose eyes looked dead half of the time.

He's already putting his uniform on before he realizes it. First his socks, the blue and white lined square patterned pants, and then his longed sleeved button-up shirt for the colder seasons. By the time he's slipping on his shoes, multi-tasking between fixing his tie and making sure his hair didn't look like he hadn't gotten out of bed in three days (which was more or less an accurate statement, but _still_), he can hear his brother trudging up the stairs once again, probably on his way to nudge their mother out of bed and tell him there's food waiting.

Funny, how he can't even remember how he ended up in this predicament. He can't remember how he ended up in this particular living arrangement. But, maybe, that's to be expected. After all, humans forget things rather quickly, with their nimble minds.

(—and _you_ are barely one year old.)

* * *

><p>They arrive at school three minutes short of the homeroom bell ringing.<p>

Their mother takes her time preparing herself. Applying gratuitous amounts of make-up for what amounted as a visit to the local supermarket, before even bothering to go downstairs and remind herself of the fact that she had two adolescent children she had to take to school before going to pick up some groceries. In between the all the bumps and holes they kept hitting on the road and their mother speaking obnoxiously to her latest boyfriend (the third one in the last five months, apparently), it went without saying that the ride to school wasn't quite as pleasant as desired.

By the time Roxas finally managed to get to his respective classroom (class 1-F, as far away as possible from Ven's class 1-B), everyone is too busy getting in their last minutes of small talk before the teacher arrives to notice him. Well, the female class representative still finds the time to look away from her little group of friends to turn around and simultaneously send a warning look and wave at him—but then again, Olette has had the eerie ability to know when people come in late since they were in daycare and Hayner was still a bed-wetter.

He sits down in his assigned seat, almost too conveniently placed next to the window and not-so-conveniently near the front of the classroom as well. He spares a glance out the window, taking note of how dark it was outside (despite it barely being 8:30AM) and how it would most likely be pouring outside by the time they're out of school—meaning that his dear twin brother will probably be all over him fretting over whether or not he brought an umbrella with him or not. It wasn't like he could do anything about this, however, all things considered, so he simply proceeds to sling his messenger bag over the back of his seat. Careful not to bump into the desk behind him, seeing as he's had enough whining to last him a week in one morning; but then again, it's not like the girl sitting behind him will care too much aside from one small _hey_ before returning to her conversation. Most people in this classroom tended to be like that, really. And so, it was a question of why did he even bother with such precautions.

"_Oh_! Roxas!"

Of course, then there's Xion.

He's barely had the time to turn around in his seat before there's a pair of bright blue eyes all up in his face. Understandably, Roxas squeaks in a decidedly undignified manner, pulling back and away from the girl who had suddenly decided to invade his personal space and scrunching his face up in some sort of mockery annoyance after getting a better look at her face—but it's not like he's really annoyed at her, really. She might as well be the only person to possess the remarkable ability to never peeve him in any shape or form.

Straightening her posture, all while laughing softly at her best friend's expense for a moment as she does so, Xion then proceeds to tap her index finger against his forehead. Once, twice, _thrice_, before pulling her hand away from him and making some sort of clicking noise with her tongue, similar to one a parent would make when scolding a child, but it wasn't something she actually meant. "And here I thought I'd have to spend all day texting you from the bathroom again," she says, a teasing tone in her voice as she speaks. "Should I be thanking Ven for dragging you out of bed?"

"No thanks. Besides, couldn't you just hang out with your sister?" He responds, pursing his lips for a moment while leaning back into the side of his desk, before his lips curl into some mockery of a smile. "Or Ven. I'd bet he's _dying_ to hang out with you, you know."

Xion's face twists into _some_ sort of emotion for a moment, before it's gone just as fast as it came. She shakes her head slowly, shuffling her feet in a decidedly awkward manner. "I… I don't think I could do that. Kairi is with Sora all of the time. I… " A pause; a cough. "And, other than that, wouldn't that be weird? Just hanging out with Ven, I _mean_… I think it might turn out pretty awkward!"

"I… Guess?" He says, cocking an eyebrow even though he knows exactly what she means, and taking a good glance at his best friend's condition for the first time in the last couple of days. As per usual, there were a couple of bruises on her skin and bandages strategically placed over her fingers and knees. Proof of how horribly _inept_ she tended to be when it came to physical activities.

Xion Kriemhild has been like this for most of the time he's known her, he supposes. But she wasn't always like this. She didn't always have such a poor constitution that she would need to skip most P.E. classes and would receive several bruises and cuts in the few she attended regardless of what sport they were actually participating in. She actually used to be quite good at it, once. But then she simply stopped being skilled. Somewhere around the time when they were 7-years-old and his cousins had just finished moving into town, Xion became so easily fatigued that she couldn't even participate in the same sports as Roxas or her sister. Of course, she said she didn't mind it so much back then, and she still says the same thing now. But then again, Xion always says she doesn't mind _anything_ if it means not making her friends or surrogate family worry. It's not that she couldn't afford all kinds of examinations and weird obscure treatments for her condition, being the mayor's adopted daughter, but only that she didn't want to have anybody go through that process with her.

It's not until the black haired girl fidgets for a moment, tugging at her sleeves and pulling the hem of her skirt down in an attempt to make the bruises less apparent, that he notices that he had gone from merely glancing to outright staring.

"Um… Kairi had me go out with her and Olette to go shopping for… Warmer clothes, since it'll be December in a few weeks." Xion offers as some kind of explanation, knowing just why had started to stare at her like that. There's a momentary pause as that weird expression comes back to her face for the briefest of seconds, and she absentmindedly brushes a stray strand of black hair out of her eyes and behind her ears. "You know how it goes with all the winter specials, right? People tend to get kinda… Pushy?" She finishes, a bit lamely.

Roxas sighs in response, pursing his lips and giving his friend another look over. Even with all the questions his brother had asked him after learning that, _yes_, there were occasions in which snow was possible within their small town, he'd still managed to forget that the start of winter was fast approaching. And with that, he'd also forgotten how horribly _annoying_ public locations tended to become. Stores would become war zones during the fabled _winter sales_, and the streets would become impossible to walk around in during normal hours with all the people rushing and screaming as they attempted to get out of the inconvenient weather (namely, _rain_) as soon as possible.

Still, even now that Xion had reminded him of such a terrible event approaching, there was still the fact that she was getting herself hurt by being dragged around like that.

"You know…" He begins, about to utter the same, lightly scolding sentence he had repeated to her time and time again, but he's cut off by a finger firmly pressed against his chapped lips. Xion smiles, knowingly, having memorized and correctly identified the tone he was using with her, and then pulls her hand away from him.

"You don't have to worry about me so much, Roxas," she says, smile still present and her tone soft, understanding her best friend's worry. "If I don't want to go somewhere, I don't. I'm not getting dragged around _anywhere_—and, besides! If I didn't go, I don't think gym shorts and short dresses would have helped much during winter break."

Roxas rolls his eyes, mostly at what might have well as been Xion's attempt at a witty retort, but there's still a small smile on his lips that (for _once_) reaches his eyes, and that's more of a testament than anything else could have been. "Just be careful, alright?"

"I will, I will!" She chirps, nodding for emphasis, before there's a pause in her actions. She blinks, once, as if she had just remembered something important she had to say or do, and her brows furrow ever so slightly.

Of course, with the most eerie precision, it is only then that their teacher decides to arrive in the classroom.

Understandably, Xion looks rather frustrated for a moment or two, biting her lip and glancing between her homeroom teacher and Roxas. After a couple of seconds of debating about whether or not to say whatever was on her mind right there and then, she simply flashes another smile at her friend, gesturing toward her seat.

"I…" She begins, slowly. "I'll tell you something during lunch hour, okay? Be sure to wait up for me!"

And with that, Xion Kriemhild had returned to her assigned seat, leaving Roxas to face the hideous reality that was standardized education.

Now, their homeroom teacher, _Xigbar_, was one of those so called revolutionary teachers who insisted their students called them by their given name instead of their surname—whatever _that_ was. It really wasn't all that surprising, however, when you considered the fact that he wore an eyepatch over his right eye and spoke like someone one of those beach reality shows had vomited straight into their classroom. Rumor has it that he wrestled with Monstro and lost an eye in some sort of Pyrrhic victory. Roxas just thinks he wanted to be a pirate and had to settle for the more realistic goal of becoming a high school English teacher, instead.

Still, regardless of whether or not their homeroom teacher had wanted to be a pirate once upon a time, it did nothing to aid today's (or any other day, for that matter) lesson in becoming more captivating than the remarkable amount of mold his brother's P.E. uniform managed to gather after a few weeks of disuse. Barely paying attention to whatever subject they were on right now, Roxas would find himself only catch the key bits of the lesson—namely, rising and bowing when the male class representative indicated, taking out his notebook when told to and absentmindedly switching textbooks as the corresponding teacher rotated into their classroom.

That aside, Xigbar never really cared if his students were blatantly staring out the window, and only called them up to mortify them in front of everybody. Xion could attest to this, unfortunately, seeing as how their homeroom teacher had decided her new name would be _Poppet_ (keeping up with his unfortunate habit of giving all of his students nicknames; Roxas had the fortune to get away with just _kiddo_) and would call her attention in the most bizarre of cases. At the very least, it increased her charm with the other students when she answered correctly, but it didn't do much in raising his opinion on his homeroom teacher for picking on the one girl who missed class far too often due to health issues.

The same did not apply to Roxas. Being one of those who did not miss class for any legitimate reason at all, rather playing absent for the sake of not being in the presence of so many strangers every day, Roxas scored relatively low on the radar of every single one of his teachers. He would ignore the curious stare of his peers, paying the most minimal attention in class, and then asking Xion, Pence or Olette (anyone but _Hayner_, really) to fill in the blanks in his memory for him as soon as an exam approached. Homeroom would pass with him staring out the window, relatively ignored, and then would come the next class. Rinse, repeat, and ignore whatever glances he would garner from his classmates.

This might have been a bit too much for him, however.

The only reason he notices the feeling of someone staring far too intensely at the back of his head is because of having heard the name _Kriemhild_ being called up as he proceeds to take out his History textbook. Naturally, that was enough to momentarily snap him out of his oh-so-important bout of spacing out in order to glance at Xion as she stumbled over her words slightly, before regaining her momentum. But even though he would take it upon himself to skim over whatever Xion was reading later on, it was the feeling of being watched that caused him enough physical discomfort to keep him from going back to staring blankly at some inconspicuous point. Discreetly, he looked behind him to see if it was not his paranoia acting up, but found what you would generally expect in a classroom—boys and girls staring at either their textbooks, the person currently dictating their daily subject to them, or at the wall.

He isn't sure of how he should feel about that.

Regardless, Xion was still reading. And even if her voice too soft for him to hear properly from where he was seated, something important enough to have a student read it aloud was probably important enough for it to be mentioned in their midterms. And so, with a sigh, Roxas found himself turning his gaze toward the first title in the current page page.

**LEGEND OF THE KEYBLADE  
><strong>_As mentioned in the previous unit, one of the most prominent legends in late Disneian culture is the legend of the __**KEYBLADE**__. The keyblade was a sword-like weapon shaped most commonly like a classic skeleton key, hence the name of "keyblade". According to scripts found in the remains of the old __**DISNEY CASTLE**__, keyblades were weapons that chose their own wielder and henceforth granted them the ability to unlock anything they desired._

_Although initial research had led us to believe for various decades that there could only be one keyblade wielder at once—or rather, one Keyblade Master—this is not so. More recent discoveries made by archaeologists have proved that keyblade wielders were many and more accurately compared to a knighthood, with the official title of Keyblade Master only being granted to a select few who passed arduous trials. After this discovery, researchers also found traces in wastelands previously thought to be barren of what is believed to have been a war fought only using this weapon. Because of this, and the fact that there seems to have been a reduction in keyblade wielders until there were only a handful remaining, it is thought that this speculated war was the start of the great extinction of the keyblade. _

_Even though the verity of the powers this weapon provided to their user is impossible to confirm, it has been proved that they did, in fact, exist. For various reasons, scholars speculate that the "key" used in the __**SKY UNITING**__ legends of Disnian culture is no other than the keyblade, and that the keyblades in this legend are between the last known examples of it before its extinction. _

By the time Roxas is done skimming over the text laid out before him, Xion had finished reading the page aloud and was now glancing nervously at their History teacher. Their teacher, Mrs. Mouse, smiles kindly at the black haired girl, who then sits down on her assigned seat as the teacher proceeds to stand up before her class.

"Very good, miss Kriemhild! Thank you _very_ much for reading that for us." Mrs. Mouse chirps, brushing some wrinkles out of her red and white polka-dotted skirt before pushing a few strands of her short, black hair out of the way of her black-rimmed glasses. She takes a few more steps toward her students; her own copy of their school approved _Disney Culture and Traditions_ textbook open and balanced against her chest, and she continues to speak. "Oh my, let's see… We've covered units one through five this trimester, which means we just have to get through this unit for your midterms. This is very good! Well done everybody!"

Some students take this as an indicative for them to start muttering at each other, at which Mrs. Mouse presses her index finger against her lips and makes a small shushing sound. "Now, now! Quiet down, everyone. I'm sure you're all very excited to talk to each other, but that can wait," she says, one hand propped against her hip as she glances down at the book precariously balanced on her free hand. "Are there any questions?"

Hayner Daniels, who was seated behind him, raises his hand up to ask a predictably stupid question. "Will there be a test about this?"

"Of course!" Mrs. Mouse chides, snapping her textbook shut with her free hand and then allowing it to join it's comrade in the act of propping itself against her other hip. Obviously, more than half of the students in the class groaned at this announcement. "It wouldn't be very productive to review something you wouldn't be tested on, after all."

Selphie Tilmitt, a girl who was currently violating the school dresscode in about seven different ways, stuck her hand up in the air promptly. "Hey! Why are we learning about this kinda stuff in History class?"

The teacher sighs, smiling kindly and most likely lamenting the fact that she had given her students the opportunity to ask questions, but there was really no other choice but for her to answer them at the moment. "Well, it's part of our curriculum for this trimester to learn about the keyblades and their relation to the Sky Uniting legends."

Naturally, it is at this point that Roxas begins to tune out the lesson once again. This was something they had been learning about since they were old enough to read, so, really. He wasn't missing much by pretending to be captivated with the text below him while absentmindedly filling in the bits and pieces he did catch with topics he only barely paid attention to in previous years. This was something he didn't even need to ask Xion or any other of his friends for help on, because it was just so _predictable_. It was almost silly to think that people still this myth seriously, wishing for luck from the supposedly legendary keyblades of light as if such things really existed.

As the teacher continues to drone on and on about things everyone should have really known by now, Roxas decides to lower his head against his desk in order to rest for a few minutes.

Things like these were really more suited for little kids.

* * *

><p>By the time lunch hour finally rolls around, Roxas was one step away from falling asleep on his desk before Xion (thankfully) decided to prod him awake. She would mess his hair up even more than it already was, calling him a lazy bum and then dragging him up and away from his seat, talking on and on to him about how she made this <em>excellent <em>boxed lunch (doubtful—last time she cooked for him, she mixed up cumin for cinnamon) for both of them so they could eat on the rooftop together.

Roxas blinks a few times, letting Xion drag him toward the door by his wrist, staring at her questioningly. "…Hey," he says, scratching the back of his head with his free hand and forcing Xion to slow down a little by walking with more lethargy. "Didn't you say you wanted to talk to me about something this morning?

The black haired girl pauses, turning to face him while pressing the plastic containers she was carrying against her chest with her other arm, and cocks her head to the side slightly, almost as if she had forgotten about it entirely. After a second or so, a look of realization dawns upon her face and she shakes her head. "Oh, _oh_. Um! About that…!" Xion says, faltering, tugging him along once again and then stopping in front of the classroom door. "I actually forgot what I wanted to say to you this morning. It probably wasn't really that important."

He nods at this, accepting it for now. Knowing her, she would probably remember it later or, maybe not at all. Also knowing Xion, she could have already remembered and decided not to go on—probably because it was too embarrassing or because the bravery she had worked up to bring it up earlier had gone away entirely. In any case, she is still holding onto his wrist as she proceeds to open the classroom door, smiling at him and staying in comfortable silence as they step into the second floor hallways.

Their school really wasn't huge, but it wasn't exactly _tiny_, either. There were four floors all in all without counting the roof as one of them, and the various floor plans framed and propped against the walls in the stairs as one came up to the next floor made it so even new students wouldn't get lost when looking for the room they needed to find, since everything was labeled neatly. It was still hideous to walk around in if you were too dumb to even do as much as to glance at the floor plans as you made your way up the school, and, well. The saddest thing is, he knows of a certain _two_ who did precisely that.

"_Hmm_," Xion lets go of his wrist then, using both of her arms to carry their lunch and walking backward as she faced him, smiling at him with her usual friendly smile. "Are you going to stay there and starve, or are you going to come up with me and eat my _delicious_ lunch?"

Roxas rolls his eyes, walking alongside her and resisting the urge to point out how her lunch would probably be the exact opposite of delicious. More along the lines of _bizarre_, _strange_ and (quote, unquote) _unique_. He doesn't, of course, and instead bops her gently on the top of her head before redirecting her to walk like a normal person. "I'm walking, I'm walking," he says, smiling back at her. "Nobody else is tagging along, right?"

"No!" She replies, shaking her head in response to his question while toying with the plastic edges of the container. "Just the two of us, like…" A pause, and he can see her chew on her lower lip for a moment, having caught her small slip up. Roxas doesn't even have to ask to know what was wrong, because he _already_ knows why she suddenly went quiet, and he's stuffing his hands inside of his pockets because of it. But still, Xion sighs quietly, and the smile appears back on her face instantly. "…Like old times, I guess!"

But it wasn't just the two of them, back then.

They trudge along the hallways in silence for a couple more seconds, Roxas' hands still shoved inside his pockets and Xion still playing with the container. He opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again while trying to come up something to say to break the silence, but finds himself unable to say anything witty to do it. He really doesn't have to, to be honest.

"Hey, _Roxas_! _Xion_!"

They both turn around simultaneously, Roxas cocking an eyebrow at what he knew was coming now, while Xion's eyes proceeded to widen into the perfect deer-in-headlights look. One of Xion's hands is immediately clinging on to Roxas' sleeve, and he sighs, looking at the girl standing beside him before glancing at what he supposes he's meant to call his _cousin_.

"…Hey, Sora," he says half-heartedly but still loud enough for his cousin to hear, rubbing the back of his head and allowing Xion to cling to his sleeve for all that it's worth. "What is it?"

Sora Faustus, his older cousin by three months and one day, grins as he finally catches up to them. He stops once he is uncomfortably close to the little bubble Roxas would like to call his _personal space_ (which was only to be breached by those whose name started with an X and ended with -ion), and leans down for a moment, apparently attempting to catch his breath after what Roxas can only assumes was getting lost through the whole second floor trying to find _something_. And his guess is most likely right, seeing as how immediately after he stops panting like an overweight puppy, he looks up and squints at every single one of the name plates above the classroom doors. And, well. While Roxas would be more than glad to say that this inability to find even the most simplest of places was a one-time only deal for his cousin—that _really_ wasn't the case, seeing as how Sora was one out of the two people that Roxas has met in his life that got lost in this overly labeled building where even the blind and deaf could find their way around.

Good job,_ bro_.

Despite all of this, Sora straightens his posture after a moment or so of glancing at his surroundings and places both of his arms behind his neck, still grinning at them. "Sorry about that, guys," he says, with a bit of a laugh. "Do ya know where your class is? I have something I really need to give my brother."

And by his brother, of course, he means Vanitas. Sora's younger twin brother by four hours or so who would have been completely identical to him if not for the fact that genetics decided to give him a pair of _bright yellow eyes_, for some hideous but still strangely fitting reason or another, if Sora's horror stories about how supposedly _mean_ he was to him when they were little were to be believed. But Roxas couldn't really talk from experience about him, being that his interaction with him has been limited to short one-worded conversations and rising and bowing to the teacher when he said so as their male class representative.

Roxas tilts his head at this, his hands still in his pockets as he inspects his older cousin, just to find that there was nothing resembling something that he might need to give to his brother at this hour. "It's right around the corner, you know…" He says, each word carefully pronounced, as if he were speaking to someone who still wore diapers and spoke in gurgles and screams. "But what do you need to give him _now_, though?"

"Oh! Uh…" Sora begins, shuffling around with the slightest bit of embarrassment present on his face. "You know how mom packs lunch for me and Vanitas, right? Well, she _sorta_ mixed them up."

He can feel Xion lighten her grip on his sleeve a little after this. Xion then blinks at Sora's word, cocking her head to the side a little now that she's probably noticed the same thing as him. "…Shouldn't you have brought his lunch with you then, Sora?"

"Already got it covered!" Sora says, nodding to himself and pointing behind him at what is apparently nothing. "I almost dropped it the first time, so Ven made me let him carry it around for me and stuff."

_Well_.

"Um… Sora?" Xion says, as slowly and gently as possible, attempting to say the glaringly obvious tidbit her brown haired friend had unfortunately failed to notice. "Where… Where's Ven?"

A beat, and Sora, straining his not generally academically-oriented mind to comprehend the meaning of what seemed to have amounted to moon speak to him, takes his time staring blankly at Xion before _slowly_ taking a peek behind him. Roxas can see his cousin blink once, twice, _thrice_, before a distinctive choking sound comes out of his throat and he's turning around and running back the way he came, but not before waving goodbye at them and shouting something that sounded like some garbled version of _be right back_.

All in all, he really had it coming.

"Are we… Waiting for him?" Xion asks, tentatively, still staring at the corner where the older boy disappeared with a mildly worried look on her face. She finally lets go of Roxas' sleeve at that instant, having realized that she had been holding it all this time and instead preoccupies herself with rearranging her skirt.

"No way," Roxas responds, snorting at the suggestion and turning on his heel back to the direction of the stairs to the third floor. He gestures for Xion to follow. "He's going to get lost again and I'm hungry."

And with a final, lingering glance, Xion follows him up.

* * *

><p>"Oh <em>man<em>, I can't believe you got lost!"

"Did not! It's your fault for walking so fast I lost track of you!"

Of course, those are Numskull One and Numskull Two bickering with each other on the way home over the unfortunate incident that led Numskull One to go all lunch period without eating and his fellow twin brother to eat _his_ lunch instead. As many of their discussions would go, Sora would be playfully pushing Ven dangerously close to the side of the road while Ven would equally as playfully push _him_ dangerously close to the side of the road. It was a wonderful display of a blatant disregard for the most basic of safety guidelines, really.

Not that Olette would be having any of it, still tagging along with three sets of twins as her house was closer to Kairi and Xion's than it was to Hayner or Pence's. She props one of her hands on her hips, her other hand with her index finger raised as she prepared to nag at both of them to stop while she quickened her pace to be in front of Kairi (with whom she had been having a _lovely_ conversation about the decorations that would be put up in Radiant Garden next month), but closer to Ven and Sora who still continued to suicidally push each other on the sidewalk.

"Now, both of you!" She shouts, face flushed as she picks up her pace sufficiently to reach and grab both of them by the back of their shirts, causing them to go appropriately still with dread. Really, if there was any reason for Olette to be class representative aside from her excellent grades, this was probably it. Striking fear into the hearts of those _too dumb to live_. "If you don't stop doing that, your clean up duties will be _tripled_!" And of course, when both of them nearly open their mouth to protest that they aren't even in the same classroom, Olette chooses to smiles gently and glance back at her redheaded friend. "Isn't that right, Kairi?"

And Kairi, being a fellow female class representative and a firm upholder of basic safety guidelines as well, giggles and smiles. "Now that you mention, I can think of a few more things for Ven to help out with," she chirps, right before crossing her arms against her chest and puffing her cheeks a little after speaking, giving Sora what they had all come to know as _the Look_. "And, _you_, Sora! You're a class representative, too! Think about what could have happened if a car suddenly came and ran you over for doing that."

Both Sora and Ven grimace at the mental image, and Roxas, who had been trailing close behind the scene alongside Xion, shakes his head. "I don't know," he says, glancing at the relatively car-free street. "I don't think it'd be _that_ bad if one of them got hit by a car."

Xion, who was walking leisurely beside him while watching the scene unfold, glances at him, giggling lightly as she knew he didn't really mean. "Now, Roxas!" She says, leaning a bit closer to his side and touching his arm with her shoulder lightly, before either Olette or Kairi could get a word in. Even if s_he_ knew that Roxas didn't mean most of the things he said ninety-nine percent of the time, that didn't mean everyone else did. "You shouldn't be saying that kinda stuff in front of them, should you?"

In response, Roxas shrugs, gesturing behind him to where Vanitas was trailing far, far behind them. He didn't even have to look back to know that he was probably still talking onhis phone (the one he wasn't even allowed to bring to school, in the first place), just like he had been since they started walking. The only real reason he even took the same route as them home was because he lived in the same house as Sora, being siblings and all—otherwise, he's pretty sure Vanitas would stay as far away from them as humanly possible. "I don't think that guy would mind much, either."

At this, Sora, who had already be thankfully released for Olette's grip, turns and scrunches his nose at him, obviously not enjoying the subject. "Gee, Roxas. Do you really gotta be so blunt about it?"

"Yep!" Is the predictable answer Sora predictably could not actually see coming.

"I dunno, Sora," Ven finally pipes up, placing his hand on his chin as he seemingly contemplates on something. "If a car hit your head, I think it'd be the one to get hit the hardest."

"Huh, what does—_oh_! Thanks a lot, Ven!"

And with another shove, they were back to square one.

Roxas sighs, looking at his surroundings and at the town he had grown up in. He supposed he was used to having Ven tag along with him everywhere now, but there was still the nagging feeling that maybe he shouldn't be like this. That he should be a little more bothered by the fact that a brother he didn't know suddenly came into his life and became friends with all of _his_ friends. A brother everyone said he should be nicer to and a brother everyone got along with like they had known him for all their life even though he had only just gotten here. It was _stupid_.

But Xion must have noticed he was spacing out again, because she would poke his side enough times to get his full and undivided attention and then grin at him, walking with a bit of rhythm in her step.

"It's nice right now, don't you think?" She says, looking up at him, but he really doesn't understand, and it shows on his face. And like a good friend who had basically grown up with him, Xion elaborates. "Everyone being friends with everyone and hanging out together, I mean…" She trails off them, pursing her lips and glancing at their mutual friends in front of them, and then looking up at him again. "Even though they're all kind of silly sometimes, it's… Nice to know they're our _friends_, right, Roxas?"

Roxas stays silent for a moment, his thumb rubbing against one of the rings on his fingers, and he sighs. "I guess…"

"Now," Xion chirps, all but gently pinching him under his upper arm. "Cheer up!"

"Why?" He scowls a little, bemoaning his viciously attacked underarm. Apparently, that wasn't the appropriate response, because Xion then far more gently pokes him on the side of his ribs, just before speeding up her pace so she could stand in front of him. He opens his mouth to ask her what she was going to do now, but she interrupts him with a finger on his lips and a smile on her face.

"Because, silly, we'll _always_ be friends!"

* * *

><p><span>question of the chapter<span>;  
>What pairings do you think will become official by the end of this story, even if they include characters that aren't present in this chapter? Guess correctly, and you <em>might<em> get a free KH drabble request.

author's response;  
>That's for me to know only. :)<p>

* * *

><p>Kingdom Hearts series © <em>Square-Enix, Disney.<em>


	2. Tables and Their Conversations

**Snails  
><strong>( _AU, multiple pairings_ )  
>Written: July 1st, 2011 — August 23rd, 2011.<p>

author's note;  
>Oh boy, so sorry for the super delay, but school started up and I had plenty of other things keeping me busy as well. In any case, this chapter is kind of wobbly by my own standards, but I promise things will start to pick up by next chapter. I'll try to get the next chapter done quickly so it doesn't seem like this one ended in too awkward of a place.<p>

* * *

><p>There were said to be seven, unresolved mysteries in Twilight Town.<p>

The stairs that changed numbers depending on whether you were going up or down, the girl who could only be seen from the corner of your eyes, and the low moaning that could only be heard in the abandoned underground tunnels—these were some of the more commonly mentioned and regarded as "wonders" of Twilight Town. Along with these, were another four depending on who you asked and when you asked. If you asked an elementary school child, they would respond by mentioning the dog that often seemed to get itself trapped inside a trash bag. To high school students, the doppelgängers seen by the park fountain were of utmost popularity, along with the alleged special lucky charms that promised an eternal bond (romantic or platonic) between those who gifted them and the ones to receive them. To adults? Of course, the inconsolable sobbing that could be heard at night from the old shrine built for the warriors of light.

But there was an eighth mystery in Twilight Town. One which could be heard during the day, just as it could be heard during the night. It could happen to you—_or it could not_. It could be happening to your next door neighbor as we speak, or you could be experiencing it during these fear addled moments.

It was the sound of metal scrapping across the pavement. Shrill, unrelenting, and above all, _unexplained_.

Some claim to have seen sparks flying across the sidewalk for a brief moment—some do not. Some say that they saw dark abominations rising up from the ground from their corners of their eyes, but were ultimately too scared to stick around long enough to find out if they were imagining things or not. Some even claim to have seen the object causing the sound, but they all find themselves lacking the words to describe it once questioned.

Naturally, as with all mysteries contained within a town, these are all highly unproven and have only been passed down through word of mouth and nothing more. But, also as with all mysteries contained within a small, suburban town such as Twilight Town, there was also—

(—_the danger of it becoming true—_)

—the possibility of there being some verity to them.

(_Scrape._)

The scene is one you would expect to see only in the most over the top cop dramas. The kind of scene the unfortunate passersby would only momentarily glance at (only enough for their minds to catch up with what their eyes were seeing) before immediately looking away, their backs hunched as they pretended having seen nothing at all and a slight jump in their step as they hurried away. But that was only to be expected, of course. Because for humans, for those brought up in normal circumstances and in possession of normal priorities, it's so much easier to run away from things we do not want to understand nor do we want to be involved in.

It was in our _nature_, after all.

When a person is assaulted in the middle of the night, the most common response would be for them to scream and struggle in hopes of finding some opening in order to escape or to draw the attention of a passing good Samaritan. When a person has their arm nearly ripped out of their socket by their assailant, copious amounts of blood falling onto what once used to be a pristine business suit, the most common response would be to scream and plead for mercy, offering to give them whatever they desired just so they would leave. When a person finds themselves pinned against the bottom of an alleyway, a weapon resembling the unintentional lovechild of a cog and a chain staring down at them, the most common response is for them to say a quick prayer while preparing to depart from this world.

But to Ansem the Wise, none of those were the _productive_ responses.

In fact, his "most common" response is something more along the lines of glaring at his assailant with all his might (a youngster dubiously older than any of his charges), his back leaned against the rough concrete wall as he gripped his now useless right arm while keeping completely and utterly silent. He knew what this person wanted, and he also knew that they did not particularly give a damn about where they got their answers from. The information Ansem the Wise held could be extracted from many other sources—he was just unfortunate enough to be the closest and savviest, and only a mere delay should he not divulge it.

"So, old man," his assailant finally says after what Ansem concluded must have been a moment of staring down at him, their voice slow and mocking as if speaking to someone they did not know nor particularly like. It was both infuriating and preoccupying in its own right. "Are you going to cough it up _nicely_, or am I going to have to rip it out of your followers once I'm through with you?"

In response, Ansem could only chuckle, shaking his head and straightening his posture despite the weapon currently held an inch or two away from his face. "I'm afraid I'll have to refuse," he responds, despite not sounding apologetic in the slightest. "You'll simply have to learn about her elsewhere."

The weapon before him shifts ever-so-slightly, to the point of being a muscular _twitch_ than anything else, and it seems as if his assailant is prepared to stab him in the face right there and then. However, instead of taking the predicted course of action, they simply starts _laughing_, almost as if they had just been told the most amusing joke ever and had lost control of their own laughter. That does not stop them from raising the weapon above their own head, assuming what must be a battle stance, before finally spitting out something coherent between their laughter—their amusement more and more apparent in every word.

"Too bad," they say, but it doesn't sound like they lament the turn of events in the slightest. "I guess Plan A has been rejected."

(—_**scrape**_.)

* * *

><p>For all Ven complained about the lack of sunny mornings in Twilight Town, he had to admit it. He loved the rain.<p>

The soft _pitter patter_ of the raindrops as they hit against glass was almost soothing, and it allowed him to forget about a lot of things. It allowed him to momentarily forget about the reason as to _why_ he was living in Twilight Town in the first place, and the fact that after a twenty eight minute long car drive (which he never understood in the first place; he had never even heard of students _not_ walking to school) he would have to face eight hours of standardized education before finally being able to talk with his friends without the constraints of having a teacher breathing down your neck for talking too loudly at the wrong moment. It allowed him to forget about the small snags and hitches that occasionally gave him migraines in the most unexpected of moments, and the way the top bunk still felt _weird_ after all this time.

He glances toward the glass paned front doors of their school, halfway through unlacing his street shoes as his brother stood beside him already in the process of slipping on his slippers, and watches as the rain dripped down the surface. They had only brought one umbrella (seeing as how Roxas had made a habit out of never, ever bringing his umbrella to school—something about it getting stolen by Seifer again), and now they were slightly wet from having to share one little, tiny umbrella between both of them until they finally managed to reach the roof right before the entrance. But that was fine. That wasn't something Ven found that he particularly minded or had any particular complaints about. Regardless of how much his twin brother complained and grumbled about having Ven whine and moan to him about how "_sharing is caring!_" and how they should both use the umbrella even though Roxas didn't mind getting drenched from head to toe by going without it, he was still happy to be with his brother and help him out. He guesses Roxas must be slightly happy as well, seeing as how he had stopped complaining sometime after getting through the front gate.

"Hey," he hears his brother say, breaking the moment of silence between them and snapping Ven out of his thoughts. He tilts his head around to face him, because eye contact is _polite_, and finds that his brother had already donned his respective pair of blue slippers while Ven himself hasn't even finished putting his street shoes into the locker. Still, Roxas stands up, patting his hands together to get rid of the drops of water and dirt working with his shoes had left on his hands, before continuing with whatever it was he needed to say. "I'm going ahead. Xion's probably in the classroom by now."

At this, Ven simply nods, finally removing both of his street shoes and unceremoniously shoving them into his locker without much care if someone were to steal them or put gum in them—it wasn't as if there was anybody who disliked him enough to do that. Not that he could think of. "Yeah, you do that," he responds, slipping on the first of the slippers onto his left foot. "Tell Xion I said hi, alright? And... To the rest of the gang too, y'know!"

Roxas pauses, just for a moment, and looks away at some unspecified point on the wall. Ven almost follows his gaze with his own, but then his brother is adjusting the strap on his messenger bag and nodding, even though it's painfully apparent that it isn't with all that enthusiasm. "Yeah, yeah," he replies, almost dismissing what he had been told, and takes a step backward and away from his twin. "Just hurry up. People are going to want to use that bench."

"Oh—uh. Right!" Ven responds, ever so eloquently, scratching the back of head with one of his hands and pulling up the end of his slipper with the other. He feels like there's something else he needs to tell his brother about, something else to mention to Roxas—but he doesn't. Instead he stomps his no longer bare foot on the ground to finish adjusting the slipper on it and Roxas merely shakes his head, muttering something along the lines of _see you later_ before leaving as Ven awkwardly shuffles his other foot into place.

It had become standard procedure for them by now.

Ven avoiding the thumpitty-thump feeling inside his chest every time a certain subject was breached (every time a certain _somebody_ was brought up), and Roxas avoiding the proverbial ulcer in his stomach each time he noticed that thumpitty-thump feeling all over his brother. It wasn't as if it was something that Ven _mentioned_—but Roxas had a way of knowing things. He had a way of reading every single one of Ven's gestures and what they were trying to hide and he had a way of knowing what he meant when he said certain things, but perhaps that was just common sense. Or perhaps it was the fact that someone with his own face was experiencing _those_ kinds of feelings for someone who, by all intents and purposes, might as well be his real sibling, instead of the twin he only barely regards as a blood relative.

Whatever the case way, Roxas simply _knew. _

And, of course, that meant Roxas did not approve.

Roxas did not approve of the way Ven would shuffle his feet whenever she was within talking distance of him. Roxas did not approve of the fact that he would scratch at his cheek one time too many and grin a little bit too wide every time she laughed at one of his jokes, and Ven wishes his twin brother _would_ approve. Not because he would actually follow through with anything (he couldn't; he knew certain things were off-limits and she was one of them), but because the fact that Roxas pulling her away from him at every possible moment simply made things millions of times more awkward. It wasn't as if he had intended to _like_-like his own twin brother's best friend, but it was something that simply happened. Even though he had only wanted to be friends after accidentally toppling over her that one time, he found himself stumbling over his words every time she laughed at one of his jokes and staring for far too long every time she wore a new outfit. She liked the same sports as him, had a natural talent for kendo, and even had as much of a sweet tooth as he did, becoming overjoyed when he offhandedly mentioned to her the unique and exclusive ice cream flavors all the way back in Disney Town.

But Xion was just a good friend to him, and that was all he would (_could_) ever admit to.

Sighing, Ven finishes adjusting his footwear and pulls his backpack over his shoulders, getting up on his feet and freeing up the bench they had been sitting on. They had managed to arrive a little earlier than what had become usual for the last couple of days, but still, that didn't mean he had to right to laze around until the bell rang. God knows what Kairi would have him do _then_ if she and Sora found him wasting time like that, and either way, he really wasn't one for cutting class or arriving late—nearly seven years of having a certain duo as his best friends had knocked any desire of doing that out of him, as well as his father's somewhat strict upbringing. A successful student was a _happy_ student, and he knew that.

By the time he had snapped out of his musings, he was already halfway through climbing up the stairs to the second floor. He could still hear the sound of the rain, hitting against the windows and roof, decreasing in strength every once in a while and nothing like what he had thought Twilight Town would be like when he first came here. He had thought of the Twilight Town in books, a city with a perpetual sunset that never went down, but that town was only to be found in legends written centuries before him or his brother or any of his friends were born. The Twilight Town of now was a town where rain and snow were commonly seen during the end and start of each year and a town where the beach was absolutely stunning during that one hour between daytime and nighttime. In this Twilight Town of now, there were certain obligations Ven had to attend to—such as refraining from walking around the hallways at the pace of an impaired snail and managing to arrive at his classroom at a reasonable time.

He rubs at his eyes, getting rid of some gunk that had managed to sneak in even after he had washed his face at least three times in the morning and glancing out the windows in the hallway as he walked by. The rain had, fortunately, gone down to a mere drizzle by now. Perhaps it would be sunny outside by the time they were out of school so he and his brother wouldn't be forced to repeat their earlier umbrella fiasco, but that remained to be seen. For now, there were other things he had to worry about. Namely, finding his respective classroom without any mishaps and locating both Sora and Kairi, who seemed to have decided to forgo meeting up at their usual spot right in front of the bathrooms—which was decidedly odd.

He takes another glance at his surroundings, cocking an eyebrow slightly as he realizes that there's no trace of either of his friends, and then slows down his pace a little just in case they were nearby or something. It was definitely strange for both of them to not be here, seeing as how they always made a point of waiting for each other until the last possible moments (something involving an inspiring talk from Kairi about friends sticking together, to which Sora promptly responded with something along the lines of "_like gum sticking to the bottom of your shoes, but better!"_), but maybe something happened. They were both class representatives, after all, and for all he knew they could have been pulled aside by a teacher in order to discuss something. If so, then he really had no grounds for complaining—not that he was doing that in the first place.

"Hey, Ven! Wait up!"

Ven snaps out of his thoughts then, blinking once and turning around to face whoever had called his name. Just like clockwork, there was Sora running up to him while waving his right arm. Naturally, Ven takes this moment to stop walking and wait up for his friend, a smile on his face, before he notices something (_someone_) very important was missing.

Where the heck was Kairi?

"Oh man, thanks," Sora says, a little breathless, finally catching up with him and leaning his arm against the wall for a moment, feeling the cool surface. He takes one deep breath, as if to make up for all the ones he skipped running all the way up to the second floor from the gates, and then proceeds to grin at his blond haired friend. "Kairi would have killed me if I didn't find you."

Of course, Ven blinks at this then, cocking an eyebrow and taking another cursory glance at the people around them. Kairi was still definitely not here—which was completely and utterly odd on an apocalypse causing level. Even on days where she would be _this_ close to coming down with a fever or something nasty, she would always be one of the first to be waiting for her friends in the second floor hallways, puffing her cheeks and propping a hand on her hip while scolding them whenever they came late. She was a perfect example of what every student should be like. So, if that was the case, then why wasn't she here?

"Uh... Hey, Sora," Ven says tentatively, after a moment or so, causing Sora to look up at him and mutter something along the lines of _yeah_. "Where _is_ Kairi, anyways?"

Sora pauses for a second then, staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face, before scratching the back of his neck in a decidedly awkward manner and diverting his eyes from him. "Oh, right," he says, his tone odd. "Nobody's told you yet, right?"

Ven quirks an eyebrow, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Told me what?"

Another pause, and then Sora sighs, straightening his posture and motioning Ven to walk along with him, which he follows. "One of Kairi's relatives died yesterday," he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at Ven as he spoke. "A great uncle or something, I dunno. They were talking to Xion and her since it was pretty sudden, you know?"

Ven nods at this, idly staring out the windows in the hallway as they walked by, feeling just the slightest bit stupid. This was most likely what Roxas meant when he said Xion was _probably_ in her classroom by now, wasn't it? "...Oh," he says, looking away from the windows and down to the floor, looking at their feet and the ridiculous blue slippers they were made to wear inside. "Are... Xion and Kairi gonna to be okay?"

"Yep, I think so!" Sora responds, much more lightly than the tone he was using moments ago, and smiles at his friend. "Kairi told me they only really saw him during those weird family reunion things they had, so they're not really close or anything."

Despite the strange, sinking feeling in the pit on his stomach, Ven finds himself sighing in relief. Even though he shouldn't, and someone just _died_, he finds himself glad that neither Xion nor Kairi would have to go through the pain of losing someone they considered dear. None of his friends should ever have to go through that.

They both walk together leisurely, finally arriving at their designated classroom after a minute or two and then giving one final glance at the hallways in hopes of spotting Kairi before entering. Their classroom was just as they expected it—a couple of girls rounding around Setzer's assigned seat as he went on and on about gambling or something along those lines, all three members of Twilight Town's self proclaimed disciplinary committee sitting in a corner of the room while most likely discussing who they would "discipline" next, and the odd girl and boy either talking to each other or sitting alone. It was the perfect, ideal lazy classroom setting, and absolutely nothing special.

Both of them settle down around Sora's seat, on the third desk of the fifth row and directly adjacent to Ven's window seat, discussing the most inane of things they could think off the top of their heads—ranging from the simple (_what did you have for breakfast?_) to the not-so-simple and potentially nauseating (_does it look like Seifer's been checking Olette out lately? It totally looks like he has_). Ven's leaning over Sora's desk as they talk, responding appropriately to everything his friend says and providing his own conversational pieces here and there while keeping their chit chat from becoming idle. He occasionally glances at the windows across the room, finding himself somewhere between being disappointed and relieved by the fact that the rain had gone down to nothing more than a drizzle every few minutes or so, before returning his full and undivided attention to Sora. And, of course, perhaps he would have continued repeating this course of action over and over again until the bell rang and their homeroom teacher arrived in their classroom, if not for something that caught his eye the next time he glanced outside.

A man.

An eerily familiar man standing in front of the school gates, holding a bright yellow umbrella and wearing an equally as bright and equally as yellow raincoat.

Ven isn't sure of how long he stares at the sight, but he is sure of the fact that he must have been trying to find some bit of recollection that _clicked_ with the person he was seeing for a good long while, since before he had even realized he was staring, Sora was staring at him as if he'd gone daft and nudging him back and forth. He takes a deep breath as he snaps back into reality, spouting a series of eloquent _um_s and _ah_s as he returns his gaze to his brown haired friend, and Sora more or less returns his eloquence with some of his own.

"Whoa, are you alright there buddy?" Sora asks, cocking a brow at him and refraining from nudging his friend back into reality more than he has to.

Ven pauses, almost turning his gaze back to the window, before he simply nods and scratches at his cheek, pulling himself into an upright position. "Yeah, I think so," he mutters, although he doesn't quite sound sure of himself. "Sorry 'bout that, I didn't think I'd end up spacing out so bad."

* * *

><p>It has been 716 days.<p>

510 days since Xion stopped nervously pacing around his bedroom floor, wringing her fingers and biting her lower lip and thinking of the worst possible case scenarios. 386 days since Xion convinced both of them to tentatively peel themselves away from their cellphones after getting nothing more than the pre-recorded voicemail message and 306 days since Roxas stopped flat out refusing to associate himself with anybody outside of his trio (now turned _duo_). 148 days since Roxas started hanging out with Hayner, Pence and Olette with a little bit more of frequency and 142 days since Xion took a deep breath and let herself be dragged to new places with new people by her twin sister and her friends.

And then, on the 716th day, he shows up again in a ridiculous get up, standing in front of their high school gate like that was the _cool_ thing to do. The _okay_ thing to do and the _sure-not-to-piss-Roxas-off_ thing to do. Sure. Let's go with that.

"..._Roxas_," he hears Xion mutter next to him, knowingly, as he finds himself clenching his fists a little more tighter than consciously intended and chewing on the inside of his mouth with a bit more vigor than he had realized. He takes a deep breath, staring at that ridiculous bright yellow get up and that bright red hair and the tattoos on his face he can somehow still make out from all the way up here, and of course he tries to convince himself that any other course of action diverging from staying right here on his desk would be a _very bad idea_, but he's never been good at convincing other people of things—much less himself.

He only vaguely registers Xion and Olette calling after him and perhaps _Vanitas_ (of all people) telling Xion to stay put before he realizes he's gone up and sprinted out of his classroom, actually running past Xigbar on his way down the stairs and muttering a hurried "bathroom" despite the fact that he's going in the completely wrong way for that to be true. He doesn't have the time to realize in how deep a shit he'll be once this little adrenaline and rage induced dash for the front gates is over, but then again, it isn't like he would particularly care either way. Perhaps Xion and Ven would frown at him and ask what was wrong, and perhaps everyone else would chide him for being so impulsive, but other than that, it wasn't as if nobody would remember about what that one kid with the surname Custor or something did that one day. He had bigger things to deal with at the moment, really.

Bigger things such as seeing whether or not his supposed best friend of four years who one day just decided to go ahead and _disappear_ on both Roxas and Xion had really come back, and if so, then how hard he would be allowed to punch him in the face before someone would come to peel him away from him. Bigger things, such as not being inside a classroom where everyone was suddenly ten times noisier than usual and the air felt thrice as synthetic and not even Xion's presence was enough to soothe his nerves and all the impulsiveness that made him as he was.

Roxas only stops running once he feels the raindrops that had gotten themselves stuck against the edges of the ceiling hit his face, and only once he realizes that his lungs are burning for fresh air after running all the way down from his classroom to being outside and in front of the front doors of his school, staring at the front gates only a couple of yards away from him.

And, unsurprisingly, but not enough to avoid the crushing feeling of disappointment crawling up his skin—no Axel.

Despite himself, he still ends up gritting and grinding his teeth together to keep himself from making any sort of undesirable noise, clenching his fists and leaving small crescent shaped marks on the palms of his hands that he could only barely feel at the moment. Maybe, in any other situation he would have begun to slam his fits against the concrete walls or perhaps he would have gone off to destroy any unfortunate piece of electronics he may have found in his way—but this was not any other situation. At the moment, he was in front of his school, allowing accumulated drops of rain fall on top of his head and in the process of cutting first period. In other words, in a position where such displays of anger would be impossible for him to perform without garnering an ever larger amount of attention to himself than he already had.

Of course, it isn't all that an unnatural response for him to tense up immediately when he feels a hand on his shoulder (as gentle as it may be), and prepare to spin around and punch whoever it was in the face.

But he doesn't. Because he never turns around and the person behind him has to resort to sighing, in a decidedly exasperated manner, in order to get his attention before pulling their hand away and speaking up. "Roxas... You're going to hurt your hands that way. Why are you outside your classroom at this hour?"

Roxas turns around then, already sneering even though it wasn't something he quite meant to do, and recognizing who it was immediately.

Of course it had to be Aqua Pontus, his twin brother's little perfect student council president best friend who everyone loved and praised and nobody dared to go without counseling. His brother's best friend who had never really left him alone ever since day one, where she discovered her best friend and surrogate little brother had a twin with a marked streak for impulsive actions with absolutely no regard for consequences, despite the fact that said twin with said impulsive streak did not want her attention nor pity in the slightest.

"I don't know. Why are _you_?" He replies, a little too quickly, chewing on the inside of his mouth once again and clenching and unclenching his hands in an attempt to calm himself down slightly. The answer to his question was blatant, really, but he couldn't hold himself back from speaking up just in the same way he couldn't hold himself back from dashing out of his classroom in the first place.

"Well, I'm student council president, Roxas," she replies, smoothly and right on cue, slipping a friendly smile on her face and crossing her arms across her chest, most likely in some attempt to keep herself from taking his hands and forcing him to stop creating crescent shaped marks on his palms with his fingernails. "I have permission from the teachers to go around the school making sure everyone is in their respective classroom. You know this."

"Yeah. Sure thing, Aqua," Roxas says, crinkling his nose slightly and furrowing his brow. "Are you going to force me back into my classroom now? Or are you just going to take me to the faculty office so I can reflect on my actions or something?"

Aqua shakes her head at this, sighing softly and leaning over to be on eye level with him, still smiling. "I would _never_ force anyone to do something, Roxas. You shouldn't think so negatively," she tells him, in the very same motherly tone he's seen her use when attempting to reason with his twin brother and that just makes his stomach twist around in the most uncomfortable of ways. "Besides, you're Ven's brother, and I—"

"_Oh_—Haha," he finds himself snapping, suddenly, interrupting her mid-sentence and taking a step away from her and towards the still open school gates. Even though he's somewhat sure that she didn't mean what she said in that way and it was all just due to bad communication, he still finds himself spouting things on a whim. "So if I wasn't Ven's brother you wouldn't try to deal with me _nicely_? Is that it?"

"No— Wait, Roxas! That wasn't what I meant!"

Of course, that's what he _hears_ her begin to say, but he isn't really paying that much attention by now. In fact, he's paying more attention to the fact that he's digging himself an ever deeper hole by running out through those gates and out of school entirely. Naturally, he will never hear the end of this once his little adrenaline induced decision making is over, but then again, has he ever really cared for consequences?

Well. Not really.

And he used to be such a nice kid, too.

By the time he's stopped, and by the time he considers he's far away from the school to stop, he finds himself in that one park near the outskirts of town—near that hill where you could see the best sunsets and watch the trains pass by for hours, but not quite. He finally plops down on some beaten up, sweat coated bench (with inspiring messages such as _Yuffie + Leon 4 lyfe_ and _if you can read this you're a ninja _scribbled on it), and takes a deep breath for every five he skipped on his way down here.

After a few moments of catching his breath, he lays down on the bench, untying his tie and tossing it aside to the ground, and then proceeding to stare at the dark clouds as they pass by with the occasional short drizzle. Nobody really passed by this area on a normal day anymore (or ever, really, he doesn't really understand why he has the belief that this area used to be somewhat populated at some point in time), and much less on a rainy day such as this. It was the perfect spot for those who did not want to be bothered, and it was the perfect spot for Roxas to numbly take his cellphone out of his pocket, flipping it open and staring at the three measly bars of reception it provided in this area.

Eventually, Roxas sighs, shoving his cellphone back into his pocket and allowing himself to, perhaps, regret the tiniest bit the fact that he let his sporadic moods get the better of him once again. He blinks out the dark spots on his vision from staring at the sky for too long, and rolls over to his side, shuffling into a decidedly less awkward position and allowing one of his arms to hang limply from the side of the bench. Even though it couldn't have been more than half an hour since he ran away from school and not much more than two since he woke up this morning, he was still beginning to feel drowsy. No doubt aided by the nice, cool air and the somewhat calming sound of the breeze causing the few trees in the area to rustle softly.

And, well, who was he to deny the opportunity to take a quick nap, even in these circumstances? For all intents and purposes, this area was deserted, save for the occasional kid who ran all the way here to search for the elusive dog trapped inside a trash bag. In the worst case scenario, he'd be woken up by a bunch of noisy five year olds or by the rain returning to drench everything within town. In the best case, he would wake up in the afternoon to a couple of text messages from his friends either chiding him for running away again or asking him to text them if he hadn't been kidnapped or something.

With that in mind, Roxas allows himself to sleep.

(—and _naturally_, if he sees a girl dressed in only white in the corners of his vision, it's nothing but a trick of the light.)

* * *

><p>(<strong><em>scrape<em>**.)

* * *

><p>"<em>It's okay to wake up now, Roxas.<em>"

* * *

><p><span>question of the chapter<span>;  
>Favorite world featured in any of the KH games?<p>

author's response;  
>My favorite world is Olympus Coliseum.<p>

* * *

><p>Kingdom Hearts series © <em>Square-Enix, Disney.<em>


End file.
